


After the Kiss

by SoManyJacks



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Needs a Hug, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Platonic friendships, Spa Treatments, and a bath, and some conditioner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyJacks/pseuds/SoManyJacks
Summary: Anders kissed Hawke; now what?





	After the Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](http://storybookhawke.tumblr.com/post/173868334773/bunny-loverxiv-storybookhawke-discourse) about Anders' hair. As always, I got carried away and wrote way more than I was expecting.

After Hawke left the clinic, Anders touched his lips, still not quite believing they’d kissed. Although it wasn’t so much that they’d kissed, so much as he’d kissed Hawke. It had all been a blur; after so many years of living with the dull ache in his chest, suddenly Anders couldn’t take it anymore. 

What was it Garrett had said?  _ How long will it take before I drive you mad?  _ Anders laughed to himself, still giddy. Of course Hawke would make a joke. That was just who he was. 

The smile ebbed slowly. With a creeping dread, it occurred to him that maybe that’s all he was to Hawke. A joke, a laugh, a moment’s entertainment. Hawke hadn’t actually said anything to indicate he was interested. Oh, he’d certainly kissed Anders back enthusiastically enough, but....

“Oh no,” Anders whispered.  _ If your door is open,  _ he’d said to Hawke. But what if it wasn’t?

He didn’t even think. Anders strode out of the clinic, his steps getting faster and faster until he was practically jogging to the Hanged Man. There was only one person who he could talk to about this.

Anders knocked on Isabela’s door with more force than he’d intended, his desperation getting the better of him. “Isabela? It’s me, Anders,” he called through the door.

A moment later the door opened a crack and a surprised-looking Isabela peered out at him. “Well this is a surprise,” she said. Getting a good look at him, she frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s -- can I come in?” Anders said, shifting from foot to foot. 

“Of course,” she said, letting him in. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I kissed Hawke,” he blurted out. Saying it out loud made it real all over again; immediately began to pace.

“Took long enough,” Isabela said, clucking her tongue. “So what’s the problem?”

Anders tried three times to find the words, finally just throwing his hands up in frustration. “What if he doesn’t want me?” He stopped pacing, rubbing his temples.

Isabela snorted. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”

Anders shook his head, now halfway convinced. “He didn’t say anything to let on he cared either way. Maker, I just threw myself at him! What was I thinking?” He went to sit on the storage chest.

“Not there, love, it’s booby trapped,” Isabela said, guiding him to a chair. “And I’m telling you, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s plenty interested.”

“Really?” Anders huffed, unconvinced.

Isabela folded her arms, regarding him. “Why did you feel the need to rush over and tell me this, exactly?”

Anders drooped, hunching in on himself and feeling more pathetic by the minute. “I don’t know, I -- I just needed to tell someone, I guess.” He sighed. “Sorry. I’m sure you’ve got things to do.” He began to stand up.

Isabela put a hand on his shoulder, staying his movement. She opened her mouth, and then paused. “Are you going to see him tonight?” 

Anders was pretty sure that wasn’t what she was going to say originally. “I told him... ugh, I told him if his door was open, I would come to him.” Anders winced.

Isabela burst out laughing. “You’ve been reading Varric’s awful romances, haven’t you? Anyway, if you’re worried, why not come for dinner here first? Thursday is all-you-can-eat pork cutlets; Hawke never misses that. Give him a chance to see you before you go skulking up to his house under cover of darkness. ”

Anders groaned. “What he’s in for is a scruffy, half-starved apostate. Ugh, what was I  _ thinking?” _

“Pfft, you make it sound like he’s not into that. And anyway, we can un-scruff you first. Have you looking your best. Do you a world of good.” She petted his hair gingerly, pulling the strands out to examine them. Behind Anders’ back, she made a face before surreptitiously wiping her hand on her tunic.

“A bath isn’t going to help,” Anders said.

“Oh, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, just you wait.” Isabela winked at him. “We’re going to need a few things though. Here,” she said, retrieving a key from the drawer of her nightstand. “It’s for the bath house out back. Go freshen up while I gather what I need.” 

Anders allowed himself to be shepherded out the door. “There’s a bath house here?”

“Down the hall, last door on the left. Take your time. I’m sure Hawke wants that booty sparkling clean.” She waggled her eyebrows.

Blushing like a first-year apprentice, Anders made his way to the bath. He was surprised to find it was remarkably clean -- apparently residency had its privileges. There was even soap and towels.

Bolting the door behind him, Anders filled the large tub with water at the pump, heating it with a touch of magic. He had to admit, it was relaxing. Very much so, in fact. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to just lounge about in warm water like this. 

After a while his fingers began to resemble prunes, so he gave himself a once-over with the soap, working the suds through his hair as well. Probably this was a mistake; his hair tended to resemble straw for at least a day after he washed it.

He was still rinsing off when Isabela pounded on the door. “Are you still in there? Andraste’s tits, hurry up!”

Anders did as he was told. Making his way back to Isabela’s room, he found her sorting through the various bottles and jars on her dressing table. Merrill was with her, perched on the side of the bed, her feet swinging. “All clean?”

“Er... yeah,” Anders hedged. He had no idea why she was there.

“Kitten’s going to give us a hand with your hair,” Isabela said. 

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Anders said, putting his hand up to his head defensively.

“Oh honey,” Isabela said. “It looks like you sawed at it with a rusty knife.” 

“I used scissors,” Anders mumbled. He still didn’t know what Merrill was going to do, exactly. Give him a haircut? Not on his watch.

“You need a cream rinse,” Isabela said. “And we’ll brighten it up a bit. Should we do that before or after?” The last question was directed to Merrill.

“After, I think,” Merrill nodded. She got up, situating herself on her knees. “You’re so tall,” she fretted to Anders. “We can manage if you sit on the floor though.”

“I don’t want you to cut my hair,” Anders said.

“We’re not cutting it,” Isabela said over her shoulder, busy rifling through the contents of her vanity and stowing various things into a basket. “Kitten’s just going to give it a little nudge.”

Anders blinked. “You can do that?” He’d never heard of magic to make hair grow before.

“Can’t you? It’s quite easy,” Merrill said. “Hair is just as happy to grow as plants. Just needs a little encouragement.” She pulled a wooden comb from her pocket.

Anders wasn’t convinced. “It’s not blood magic, is it?”

Merrill tilted her head. “Was that a joke, then? Sometimes I can’t tell.”

“Of course it was a joke,” Isabela said. “He was just trying to be funny.  _ Weren’t you, Anders?”  _

“Ha ha,” he laughed weakly. He sat on the floor in front of Merrill, oddly nervous. It wasn’t likely that Merrill could do anything to make him look worse, but unknown magic was, well, unknown. 

“This is going to be such fun,” Merrill said, combing through his hair. 

Anders decided he liked having his hair combed. Very soothing. He could get used to this. Still, he braced for Merrill’s magic.

“Is there any special occasion?” Merrill asked after a few seconds.

“Er --” Anders hadn’t been expecting the question; he hadn’t been expecting any of this, actually.

“Anders kissed Hawke and now he wants to seal the deal,” Isabela said calmly. 

“Bela!” Anders protested, even as Merrill cooed in excitement.

“How exciting! How’s this, do you think?” Merrill directed the question at Isabela.

“Oooh, that’s going to be gorgeous,” Isabela said. “Maybe another inch or two.”

“Wait, what? Are you already --” He frantically reached up to feel his hair; he hadn’t sensed any magic. Sure enough, it was longer. Much longer -- past his shoulders, in fact. 

“I told you, hair is happy to grow if you’re nice to it,” Merrill said, making another pass with the comb.

“Perfect.” Isabela hefted the basket, full of bottles and towels and brushes. “Come on, let’s go up to the roof.”

“The roof?” Anders let Merrill help him to his feet. “What’s on the roof?”

“Sunshine, of course. Come on, we need as much time as we can get.”

It was only just after noon and the sun was blazing down. The breeze made it bearable, though. Anders blinked as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. “Why do we need sun, exactly?”

“Because,” Isabela said, pulling him to sit at a somewhat battered picnic table. “It’ll give your hair a lovely highlight.” Without asking, she began liberally dousing his head with a cold liquid that smelled like citrus.

“But what  _ is  _ it -- ow, it stings!” Anders squinted his eyes shut, wiping at them frantically.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Isabela chided. “It’s just lemon and water. If you’d sit still for two seconds it wouldn’t get in your eyes.” She worked the solution through his hair. “Now, you should probably lean forward. It’s got to dry in the sun, and we don’t want you getting sunburned.”

Anders did as he was told, folding his arms on the table and resting his forehead on them. His hair fanned out on his shoulders. “I don’t know why you’re doing all this,” he groused. “It’s not like it’s going to matter. I never should have kissed him; the whole thing’s hopeless.” Despite his pessimism, it felt kind of nice, resting in the sun, nice and warm but not too warm, and with a breeze of fresh air from the sea that wasn’t tainted by the grime of the streets. 

“I think it’s fun to pamper now and again. Sometimes the Dalish get together and give each other special foot baths with salt and sand and oils. Feels lovely.” Merrill hopped up to sit on the edge of the table.

“Ooh, that sounds good. We should do that, kitten. I give a hell of a foot rub.” Isabela sprawled out beside Anders, sitting backwards so she could rest her back on the table. She shut her eyes and lapped up the sun. “You think Aveline would be interested?”

Anders snorted. “I can’t see her being one for pampering,” he said. 

“Just the three of us then,” Isabela said. “Don’t even pretend you’re not loving this, Anders. You of all of us need a spa day now and then.”

“You do work awfully hard,” Merrill agreed.

Anders was strangely gratified, biting back his objections and smiling to himself. It was nice to be included, after all. And he did like foot rubs.

Isabela re-applied the lemon solution once his hair had dried. “Really, we should have started last week,” she said. “But this is better than nothing.” After that dried, they rinsed his hair again and worked some kind of lotion into it before rinsing that out as well.  

“This smells amazing,” Anders murmured.

“Bay laurel, vetiver, clove, and a hint of lime,” Isabela said. “I thought it would work for you.”

By then, the sun had passed behind the next building over, so they went back inside. Isabela continued to fuss with Anders hair, braiding it while it was still damp, then giving him a manicure and trimming his stubble into something less scruffy. She even dusted his cheekbones with a glittery powder. Merrill peeled tangerines and cracked nuts for them to snack on in the meantime, and they gossiped about Aveline and Fenris and Varric. It was a pleasant afternoon, all told -- probably one of the nicest he’d had in recent memory. 

Almost nice enough, in fact, to distract him from his growing anticipation/dread about seeing Hawke later. Almost, but not quite. It felt as if he’d swallowed bees. 

Just before dinner, Isabela unbraided his now-dry hair. “Oh, that is simply gorgeous,” she gushed, running her fingers through it. 

“So pretty,” Merrill agreed. “Should we leave it down?”

“I think so,” Isabela nodded. 

Anders did have to agree it was very soft, and it smelled good. “Does it look alright?” he fretted. He got up and looked in the mirror.

Anders’ eyes went wide. His hair cascaded in soft waves around his face, shiny and touched with bright gold even in the candlelight. He had to admit, it looked nicer than it usually did. He played with it, running his fingers through it, tucking it behind one ear and looking this way and that in the mirror. “Oh wow.”

“If Hawke doesn’t gobble you up like a sweet cake, I will.” Isabela growled in her throat.

“Here, I hope you don’t mind, I aired out your mantle,” Merrill said. “While you were in the bath.” 

Anders pulled the garment around his shoulders. It was suspiciously clean, scented lightly with the same cologne as in his hair. But it wasn’t just clean; the places where the fabric had been frayed were now good as new, and the feathers were bright and shiny. “Aired it out, hmm?”

Merrill just shrugged. “Maybe I just helped it along. Only a little.”

It hit Anders then -- they’d both spent all afternoon with him, wasting their time (and magic) making him look good, keeping him company so he didn’t spend hours worrying himself into knots. “Why -- you didn’t have to do this. Either of you. You must’ve had better things to do today.”

“Because you work too hard,” Isabela said, straightening the collar of his coat. “Kitten is right. It’s nice to see you relax a bit and not be all grumpy. Plus, it’s fun.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you.” Anders was touched. He’d only come here because he was desperate for someone to talk to; he hadn’t expected anything more than a quick chat, if anything. It never occurred to him that Isabela and Merrill would enjoy spending time with him, much less the other way round. Suddenly he wished there was a little more time before dinner.

“We should do this again!” Merrill said, breathless, clapping her hands together in delight.

“We should,” Anders agreed, smiling tentatively.

“We will,” Isabela said. Then she put her hands on his shoulders and marched him towards the door. “Come on, loverboy, let’s go net you a Hawke.”

 


End file.
